


Sam, are you okay?

by booktick



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-26
Updated: 2013-09-26
Packaged: 2017-12-27 17:44:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/981799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/booktick/pseuds/booktick
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sammy doesn't listen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sam, are you okay?

A/N: This is an Asylum AU series thing I started for a friend but I am considering making it a chapter fic. I dunno yet.  
Disclaimer: I own none of this franchise.

* * *

Sam Winchester had been at the hospital eight weeks. He hated it more than most things. He hated a lot of things lately. He hated his medication. He hated his bed and the way it put a permanent cramp in his back.

The mattress was filled with springs, probably too old and the railing was more than freezing. He couldn’t count how many times he was shocked out of a daze because of that. Sam would more than often have that happen and it would end up another all nighter. Had some time to think about home, impala…Dean. His feet hurt too after that.

Whenever he imagined Dean, toes would curl-and not in a good way. That, for example, was an all nighter. He always looked like hadn’t slept, that’s what big brother said.

_I’m fine, Dean, I’ve been sleeping._

_Why don’t I believe you?_

He hated the way the band around his left wrist pitches. And yet…he could not bring himself to hate Dean.

_Sammy? You alright?_

Sam refused to hate Dean. No matter how many times he was on his knees, puking his guts out and walked around with a pain in his gut for the next three days. Fucking Dean…his brother hadn’t stopped by to visit in days, made Sam’s wrists and arms hurt just thinking about it.

He still had bruises on his knees, on his thighs too but that was from other reasons. That was from secrets he withheld from his doctor. Sam had a need, he’d make the bruises himself. Probably wasn’t the best idea, probably did more harm than good-but it got him off. Sam pretended Dean had put them there.

That got him hot, got him off a lot faster too. He must be really fucked up. No one should orgasm that hard over their big brother and have dark bruises over it, right? That’s what Sam told himself before stroking off to the image of Dean’s face.

God, he needed some sleep.

His doctor told him he needed to talk. To let it out instead of beating himself up over it. Sam wanted to laugh, to laugh or he might just cry. Doc also says shit like how he shouldn’t bottle everything up. That he should talk about Dean. Sam doesn’t want to talk about Dean with his doctor.

It’s none of their business. Dean is special and private. That…That’s private.  And fuck that if Sam was going to tell some shrink how Sam would suck big brother off at age sixteen. Some shit was just private and that was that.

"How are you feeling today, Samuel?" _The fuck-…_

"Sam."

"Pardon?" _For the love of God, don’t call me Samuel. What is wrong with you?_

But instead, he sighed and flexed his fingers some. He sat in the chair and never felt more uncomfortable than in that moment. His leg is over his other.

"It’s just…Anna calls me Sam. Not…Not uh-Samuel."

"Oh." The man nodded and looked at his clipboard for a moment “I see. Sorry. Sam, I don’t want you uncomfortable." Too late for that. Sam folded his arms that time though he didn’t feel sick. Not like last time when he was slouched.

He’s thinking about it though. He wanted to not give a damn. But he kept unfolding his arms, scratching his hair, then folding his arms again. It’s a cycle, a empty one, and yet he kept at it. Those eyes kept at it too. Doctor Stranger stared at him. That’s how his stomach started to tighten.

Sam hated his medicine. It tasted weird in his mouth, made him gag. It was times like these though where he should take it. He knew that! Dean would have yelled at him for not following the rules.

"Sam, you never did answer my question."

Sammy, you’re here to get better or Sammy, man, I fucking love you. It’s the same play, same words just different characters added to make the story worst. But this isn’t Dean. It’s just a doctor who doesn’t know him or love him. It’s not Dean.

The chair didn’t feel so comfortable anymore, in fact, it felt like there were bruises on his back. So, he shifted up some more, not in that slouch form he had been before. His fingers picked at his shirt, even with his folded arms and he swallowed.

"Fine. I’m okay. Thanks."

_Sammy, you okay?_

Sam didn’t feel okay anymore.


End file.
